


holding onto feelings i'm not used to feeling

by oceansbelow



Category: Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997)
Genre: Aerith Gainsborough Lives, Aerti Week 2020, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Mild Hurt/Comfort, [kicks cloud] sorry gayboy its time for the wuhluhwuhs, mild body horror, sephiroth continues to be sephirtoh and i hate him with every fibre of my being, vincent continues to be vincent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:20:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26668858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oceansbelow/pseuds/oceansbelow
Summary: day 7:warm tones | crossovers and AUs | love language |vorfreude:the joyful, intense anticipation that comes from imagining future pleasures“I was so scared,” she breathed. “When you vanished from the temple, I – I was so scared I’d lose you, too.”Hesitation often spelled the end of things, and it was only because of Tifa's lack of it that Aerith was still here, in Tifa’s arms with her chin resting atop sleek black hair.
Relationships: Aerith Gainsborough/Tifa Lockhart
Comments: 6
Kudos: 59





	holding onto feelings i'm not used to feeling

_“Cloud!”_

Tifa broke out of her shock and tore up the stairs to the altar where Aerith was praying with Cloud looming over her, sword up in the air above her head like an executioner’s axe.

She couldn’t think, couldn’t _breathe_ as she rammed into him shoulder first, knocking him into the banister and sending the Buster Sword clattering to the ground. Aerith’s eyes snapped open at the sound, as though waking up from a trance.

“Tifa,” she began, “you need to – “

Tifa saw the shadow forming on the floor beneath them before it even reached. She lunged at Aerith and they fell to the floor just as the Masamune speared through the space they’d previously been occupying.

(Later, when everything had died down and they were all recovering in one of the empty houses in the city, Aerith would see to the gash across Tifa’s calf and wonder just how lucky they were.)

She looked down at Aerith, breathing heavily. “Are you alright?”

Aerith nodded, looking faint. “Yeah,” she breathed. “Yeah, I am.”

A cold voice cut through the air between them. “As much as I hate to break the touching mood,” it chided. “But I do believe we have some unfinished business.”

Tifa was the first one to break apart and get to her feet. Vincent was already up the stairs, Buster Sword in hand as he stood over Cloud’s unconscious form, gun gripped tightly in the other, not yet raised. Sephiroth stood between the two groups, eyes lit up with… _something,_ she couldn’t place.

And he was looking right at Aerith.

“Once again, against all odds, you defy fate.” 

He circled the katana, tilting his head to the side.

“Tell me, dearest Cetra, does it feel good, knowing that you get to live another day?”

Tifa watched as little cracks appeared in the ground the moment the katana was yanked out.

“You and your little puppet are safe. All thanks to _her.”_

She felt the scar across her chest burn.

He stopped, facing them once again, and a mocking sneer split across his face. “I shall bid you farewell for now, Cetra. But allow me to impart upon you a congratulatory gift.”

Aerith’s voice sounding behind her, firm and unyielding, was almost a relief. The feeling of her hand sliding into Tifa’s even more so. “Thanks, but no thanks. I’m not much of a gifts kinda gal.”

Sephiroth hummed with silent laughter. He let go of the Masamune, but instead of it falling to the floor, it just vanished into thin air. “That, I can tell.”

And with that, he too vanished. But in his place, Tifa realized with cold dread dripping down her back, was a dismembered arm, the skin gray with decay.

But dismembered arms didn’t suddenly come to life and writhe like some sick elementary project. They didn’t swell and morph and grow into horrible creatures with barbed tentacles and orifices that spewed poison and faceless heads with far too many eyes where there shouldn’t be any.

She felt Aerith’s hand give hers a gentle squeeze and her breath on her neck. “Come on, we’ve dealt with this thing before. It’s no match for us now.”

Tifa nodded. “I know,” she said, and she _did._ She looked to Vincent, who was readying his gun, and nodded. “Let’s go.”

***

Aerith didn’t realize the weight of what had just happened until they reached their temporary safehouse and Tifa pulled her in a hug that almost swept her off her feet.

“I was so scared,” she breathed. “When you vanished from the temple, I – I was so scared I’d lose you, too.”

Hesitation often spelled the end of things, and it was only because of Tifa's lack of it that Aerith was still here, in Tifa’s arms with her chin resting atop sleek black hair.

And Aerith hesitated before putting her arms around Tifa in return.

“I know, and I’m sorry, I just – “

Tifa looked up at her, displeased. “You had to do it alone?”

“I didn’t want anyone to get hurt!” she blurted out, suddenly. “I – Sephiroth was gunning for me, and I had to summon Holy to stop him, so the only way to do it and keep you all safe was – “

“Was to get yourself _killed?”_

A heavy, uncomfortable silence settled upon them. Aerith looked away.

“I knew I wasn’t going to make it to the end of all this, and it was selfish of me to put it off for as long as I did, I just…”

She looked back at Tifa, eyes stinging.

“I love you all so much. I love _you,_ so much. I just didn’t want you to get hurt.”

Hands gently cupped her face, thumbs wiping away the tears that had spilled over. “We’re always going to get hurt,” she murmured, a watery smile on her face. “It’s what we do. A couple scratches isn’t going to do anything to us.”

Despite herself, a laugh bubbled up from Aerith’s chest and out her mouth. “Which you’re covered in, by the way. Let me fix you up.”

Tifa’s smile grew wider as she moved her hands down to rest at her shoulders. “I think I remember a certain someone breathing in a literal cloud of toxic poison.”

“That was Vincent.”

“It was not Vincent,” said Vincent from the corner.

“I drank a bottle of antidote!” Aerith protested as Tifa’s hands guided her to an unoccupied bed.

“Which are generally for common poisons, like toads or something. Not some weird, _really_ fucked up alien monstrosity.”

She grinned. “You can just say Sephiroth, you know.”

Tifa burst out laughing. “Don’t say his name! It might be like, a jinx sort of thing,” she hissed. “But that’s besides the point! I have some Curaga materia on me, and I’m going to heal you up.”

“And pass out?”

“And pass out. You have my full permission to heal me while I’m asleep.”

With a laugh, Aerith nodded, smiling as Tifa switched out the materia on her bracers before laying her hands over Aerith’s abdomen. She sighed softly as the magic slowly knitted her wounds closed and newfound strength flowed through her. A minute later, she felt Tifa _fwump_ onto the bed beside her, and with a muffled, “g’night,” she was out.

In return, Aerith turned and began tending to her wounds, lingering on the gash along her calf, wondering about how they’d gotten so lucky, and, with a little hope, where they would go from here. 


End file.
